


One of Us

by titansatemysoul



Series: Wayward Son, We're By Your Side (Prompt Fill Collection) [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill, firearms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/pseuds/titansatemysoul
Summary: The last of the four, Prompto is finally turning twenty.





	One of Us

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt ; Do a short fic of the boys celebrating one of their birthdays! It doesn't matter which one, you can choose who the birthday boy is! (Noctis and the gang)_

Prompto remembers the first time he fired a weapon. The jolt up his arm felt as though it would knock his shoulder straight from its socket and the crack of the bullet left a ringing in his ears that lasted hours after he was finished. A sword or a lance or dagger was one thing. He’d watched his friends training many times, reaping the rewards of a lifetime of practice. All three moved seamlessly around one another, even when sparring, every step calculated and sure.

Guns are different. There’s no wooden version that he could use for mock battles and going up against his peers. A bullet is definitive and lethal, capable of rendering even the best elixirs useless in a matter of seconds.

“Begin.”

Prompto’s hold is light on the grip, overlapping just beneath the trigger. He can barely feel the kick, leaning into it as he empties the barrel into the human shaped paper target mounted at the opposite end of the range. Setting down his pistol, he removes the noise cancelling muffs over his ears, letting them hang around his neck, clenching and unclenching his fingers as the whir of a machine brings his target forward. Six out of ten marked within the inner most ring at the center of the torso.

His instructor nods, giving his approval and jotting something down on his clip board.

“Again,” he says, motioning for an attendant to fetch a new target sheet. “Only this time, aim for the head.”

-

“Hey, birthday boy!” Gladio catches Prompto leaving the equipment room, slipping on his wristband just as a hulking, muscled arm pulls him in and a large hand musses his hair. Fortunately, he’s been found _before_ Gladio’s training rather than after.

“You sure you don’t want to go out tonight? It’s just not right for a man to skip out on his first birthday beer.”

“This weekend,” Prompto says, pushing him off. “I can’t tonight.”

“Big plans? Don’t tell me, you found a girl.”

Prompto waits while Gladio rifles through the many shelves, returning with a stack of heavy looking discs.

“Just a little practice with projectiles,” he explains, then grins giving Prompto a good natured nudge. “Bet you could shoot a couple of these right outta the sky if you tried.”

He just shrugs, following Gladio towards the atrium. None of the three have ever seen him shoot before. On the rare occasion that he does join their sessions, blanks are used to familiarize themselves with the sound and Prompto checks the clip, over and over and over because _what if_.

“Hey!” Noctis is already there when they reach the entrance, the sharp sound of magic echoing off the stone walls and high ceilings as he cycles through the weapons in his arsenal.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” he says when he sees Prompto.

“I ran into Gladio, so I figured I’d come say hi.”

“Aw, dude, really?” Noctis groans, noticing the armful of props in Gladio’s arms for the days exercise. “Why don’t admit you _like_ throwing things directly at my face?”

“I’d lose my job.”

Noctis punches him in the shoulder and Gladio is quick to return it in equal measure. Regardless of strength, the Prince’s slighter stature shouldn’t allow him to remain upright. At yet, he doesn’t even flinch, only makes a rude gesture, rubbing the spot that was hit. Prompto looks away, wondering as he often does, how he ended up in the company of such substantial human beings.

“Hey, so, we’re still on for this weekend, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” he gives Noctis a thumbs up.

“So what _are_ you doing tonight, then?” Gladio asks, limbering up.

“My parents are taking me to dinner.”

Prompto doesn’t miss the way his friends falter.

“Cool,” Noctis says, a little too deliberately. “That’s cool. Have a good time, and tell them we said hello.”

-

Prompto knows before he’s past the gate.

“I’m home,” he calls, unlocking the door and slipping off his shoes. The house is quiet, all the lights off except for one lamp in the living room and a note on the coffee table.

His parents aren’t coming.

They didn’t even bother to apologize, just a quick scrawl of _Love Mom & Dad_ on a store-bought card and a few bills tucked inside. He’s not as upset as he thought he’d be. Certainly not surprised.

It’s not that Prompto’s parents have _never_ been there. His mom took him to his first day of elementary, gave him haircuts until he insisted it be done by a professional. His dad helped with his homework and was always willing to give him a bump in his allowance when he and Noctis started hanging out after school. There was love on all sides but always something missing. Maybe some people just weren’t meant to be parents.

“Hello?”

Prompto turns on his heel, about to greet his father when he realizes the voice isn’t his. It’s Noctis, stepping over the threshold as he pushes the heel off his other shoe with his toe.

“What are you doing here?”

Noctis looks around, flipping the switch by the doorway and illuminating the living area.

“Where are your folks?” he asks, looking around.

“Oh,” Prompto looks down at the note still clutched in his palm. “They work a lot so…you know…”

“Too bad,” is all Noct says, but Prompto knows he understands. He isn’t the only one with parents who’ve missed out on something special. “Alright, well let’s go then.”

Noctis snatches the note out of his hand, tossing it on the floor where it slides beneath the couch. Grabbing Prompto’s birthday money off the table, he beckons for him to follow.

“We’ll use _this_ on the way to my place.”

-

They arrive at Noct’s apartment complex just after dark, carrying bags of convenience store brand snacks along with an ice cold twelve pack of beer. Noctis kicks the door, balancing the box on his hip.

“Someone let us in! Ignis!”

“You have a doorbell,” Ignis says cooly when he opens the door. Prompto doesn’t see Ignis very often when he’s not ‘working’ or so close to it that he’s out of business casual, so he’s little surprised to see him, hair down, in a jersey gray tee and black jeans. The entire apartment smells like _food_ , so much so that Prompto can’t discern one scent from the other.

“Yo!” Gladio greets them, pushing off the couch and plodding over to the kitchen. He rips the top off the twelve pack, popping open a beer with a bottle opener keychain.

“You asked me to make dinner,” Ignis scoffs, looking through their spoils. “Did you have to buy _all_ of this?”

“Prompto was paying,” Noct says, ripping open a bag of potato chips and coming back with an overflowing handful. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth to annoy Ignis more than anything else, who snatches the package out of his hand.

“I suppose chips and barbecue aren’t so far off the mark,” Ignis decides, inspecting the label before taking a few for himself. “Speaking of, excuse me.”

He retreats to the balcony, apparently claiming the bag for himself, opening a grill that Prompto is very certain _didn’t_ used to be there.

“Uh, is that new?”

“We borrowed it for the night,” Gladio says, picking through the rest of the snacks.

“So, you guys all thought that…”

Noct and Gladio exchange glances, then Gladio opens another beer, sliding it across the counter to Prompto and another to Noctis.

“I would have kidnapped you anyways,” Noctis grins, clapping him on the back. The balcony door slides open again, and Ignis rejoins them with a platter full of four, large, long bone steaks, grilled to perfection, glistening with glaze and savory spice.

“Iggy, wait,” Noct pulls him back to the counter before he can retrieve the rest, shoving a drink into his hand.

“Prompto,” Noct says, holding out his bottle. “Congratulations on making it to adulthood. Prepare for absolutely _nothing_ to change.”

“That’s not true,” Ignis cuts in, then, “Maybe it’s a little bit true. There’s certainly no switch to make you _feel_ any different.”

“Thanks guys,” Prompto drawls sarcastically, but he’s smiling, and everyone is laughing and they all look on as Prompto takes his first _legal_ drink.

“Alright, dinner time.”

Ignis has spared nothing for their celebration, an endless onslaught of vegetables, steeped in oil and butter, thick cut fried potato and a cold grain salad to even it all out. There is a cake, of course, though none of them have much of an appetite for it by the time it comes around. The candles and singing are mercifully skipped, and once all the food is neatly packed in plastic, they sit in the living room, not doing much of anything but enjoying each others company and digesting.

“Hey, lets go up to the roof,” Noctis suggests, stifling a yawn.

“You have a balcony.”

“Yeah, but its small and we have Gladio.”

Prompto snorts, but agrees.

“I wouldn’t mind. I think all the food is starting to get to me.”

They all force themselves up and Noctis puts the last four beers in a bag to take with.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Gladio says. “You know what they say about beer.”

Prompto doesn’t, but Gladio has already disappeared down the hall, so he follows Noct and Ignis out the door and up the utility steps where Ignis jimmies the lock for them to get outside. It’s mostly exhaust fans and piping, a few electrical boxes surrounded by tall fences. There’s a wrap around set a meter from the edge of the building, too tall to climb on but not high enough to bar the view of the city below. Everything is lit up, far off sirens wailing in the distance, the thrum of motorcycles speeding on the highway. Some of the skyscrapers seem to disappear in the clouds, only given away by the red marker lights on their corners.

“This is better,” Ignis concedes, arms reaching up above his head to stretch.

“It’s a good view,” Prompto says, looking over the railing. “You can see the whole skyline.”

“Let’s sit here,” Noctis hops up to a thick metal vent and passing out their drinks. The door groans when Gladio catches up, clutching bags in both hands.

“Can’t forget these!”

“This is me,” Noctis hands Prompto a box wrapped in blue and gold. The model number is the first to peak out from the ripped paper: a brand new, high resolution camera.

“Wow, this is too much, it’s —“

“Your birthday,” Noct finishes, shoving the box into his lap. “It’s yours.”

Ignis takes it away, setting it carefully back in the bag.

“Your second gift is a bit different,” he begins, the mood shifting abruptly. “It’s not exactly a gift, I suppose.”

“Okay…”

“You know, talking is usually your strong suit,” Gladio nudges Ignis out of the way, taking out another box. This one isn’t wrapped, a thick, black case, and one that Prompto recognizes immediately.

The firearm is nothing like what he’s used at the Citadel’s range. Its sleek and silver, embossed with intricate designs up the slide and the Crownsguard emblem on the grip. The barrel is embellished by curved steel that ends in a wing that expands over the length of the cylinder. He picks it up carefully, fingers running over each of its complexities. When Prompto looks up, Gladio and Ignis are watching. Noctis is off to the side, leaning in the crook of the pipes, his somber expression hidden by dark bangs.

“Lucian magic isn’t a gift,” Ignis explains, gently taking the pistol away. “It’s a burden, to all those bestowed with it. Not everyone can bear it, and it must be controlled, or it will overwhelm you.”

“Starting next week, you’ll be training with us full time,” Gladio tells him. “You’ll need all the help you can get, because trust me, this stuff can really put you on your ass.”

Noct takes the gun from Ignis, holding it in his palm. Then, he looks at Prompto.

“I guess being an adult does change a few things…kind of.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, giving him a weak smile. “I guess. But you don’t have to do this. You all have years on me, I’ve never done any of this before.”

“You will,” Ignis says, uncharacteristically reassuring. At least, when directed at Prompto.

“You’ve gotta,” Gladio sighs heavily. “You never know what could happen. The world is a dangerous place.”

“I trust you,” Noctis steps forward, handing Prompto the pistol. “You’re one of us now.”

“Okay so, how…?”

“Nothing crazy,” Noctis holds out his hand for Prompto to take. It’s clammy, and he’s surprised to find that the Prince is shaking. It seems like he’s about to do… _something_ , then he pauses for a moment. Starts to say something but stops short.

“About your parents…,” he trails off, trying to find the right words. “Don’t think too hard on it, okay? You’ve got family right here.”

Magic is deathly cold and searing hot all at once. For a second Prompto can’t see, overcome by an intense head rush that leaves him dizzy and a little nauseous. And then it’s over. He coughs, fighting back the reflex to wretch and everyone takes a step back.

“It’s gross, right?” Gladio looks on cautiously, finishing off the last of his beer.

“Quite unpleasant,” Ignis agrees. “Though it’s only the one time, at least.”

“Well, _sorry_ ,” Noctis snaps, wearing an incredulous pout that somehow makes him look sixteen all over again. Prompto laughs. Ignis is next, covering his mouth in a vain effort to hide it, then Gladio, and finally Noctis, all of it too contagious to resist.

“Try,” he says when they finally start to calm down. “You’ve seen me call my weapons before. It’s not that hard.”

The familiar sound of magic and metal come with the appearance of Noct’s favorite blade, held in a backwards grip. Ignis draws one of his daggers, balancing it on either end by the tips of his fingers. Gladio’s great sword is easily the largest, but he swings it over his shoulder as if it’s featherlight. They all wait, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s just like the equipment room,” Gladio says. “Put it away and take it back. And don’t over think it.”

The gun twitches in Prompto’s hands a few times, and despite the advice, he’s _definitely_ over thinking. Suddenly, it disappears, bright white sparks following in its wake. Now to just…the same sparks come as the pistol materializes in his hand.

“That’s awesome,” Noctis grins, dismissing his own and going to congratulate his friend. “That was perfect.”

-

Gladio is gone and Ignis is asleep in Noct’s bedroom.

“Stay over tonight,” Noct insisted. “Your folks aren’t around anyways. Sleep in the guest room.”

They’ve stayed up late, watching their favorite shows and playing a few rounds of _JM5._

“You’re usually out by now,” Prompto says, choosing a fresh character for the next fight. “You can go to bed if you want.”

“It’s whatever,” Noctis shrugs. “We’re adults. I don’t have school tomorrow.”

Prompto laughs, but they both do poorly and return to the main menu, just sitting there, not ready to go to sleep but too tired to do anything else.

“I’ll probably take this with me,” Noctis says, yawning, pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “Ignis is bad at sharing once he’s asleep.”

Prompto hums quietly, cycling the arrow key around the game menu.

“Another movie?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He doesn’t make it past the first 30 minutes, drifting off and slumping into the side of the couch. He’s vaguely aware of Noctis turning off the TV, and even less so of the blanket that’s draped over his shoulders.

“Night, Prompto. Happy Birthday.”

-

The journey to Altissia was a road trip and nothing more. That was stressed when they were informed of the treaty and Noct’s sudden upcoming nuptials. But Gladio didn’t look happy and Ignis looked even worse. Noctis hadn’t said much about it, and hasn’t since. If it was _just a road trip_ , Prompto wouldn’t be here, under Clarus’ orders, at the range less that 24 hours before their departure.

It took a few months, but Prompto acclimated to his new weapon, and when he checks his target he’s hit the mark, ten for ten. However, a stationary target was one thing, live targets were another beast entirely — one that he hasn’t mastered.

“Prompto.”

He clicks the safety on and turns to find Gladio waiting by the entrance. The pistol disappears, returning to the arsenal as he leaves his station.

“Time to get our gear.”

“Right. So, tomorrow, huh. I hope Noct isn’t driving.”

“Not a chance,” Gladio says gruffly. They walk past the atrium, where a few crownsguard and a pair of glaives are training together. Prompto can hear the cracks of magic as they warp into the air, balancing on the high beams to strike from above.

“It’s a good thing we’re not going to be fighting or anything,” Prompto summons his weapon, turning is over in his hands before he lets it go. “There’s no way I’m ready for _that_.”

“You will if you gotta be. But I’m not too worried about it.”

Ignis is already in the dispensary, dressed in full glaive attire, a tailor looking over the fit of his jacket, another pile of new clothes on a stool beside him.

“Whoa, do I get one of those too?”

“Hell yeah, you do,” Gladio says. “You’re one of us.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not actually sure why I chose Prompto, because he's not someone I've spent a lot of time writing about, but it was fun (and so much longer than I ever intended). Sorry if I was a bit fast and loose with canon, I'm not as well versed in Prompto and I haven't written 20s era (or slightly pre) in quite awhile and found that I was a bit rusty.
> 
> I'm still working on my own (non-prompt) fics, but multi chapters require lots of attention, and I wanted to stretch my legs a bit! It makes the heart grow fonder when I've been spending so much time with them.
> 
> Thank you anon for the prompt, I hope you enjoyed~


End file.
